


The Maiden

by LadyRhiyana



Series: Time travel and other twists [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crossover between past and present, F/M, Meet-Cute, Romantic Fluff, Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:41:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25211815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyRhiyana/pseuds/LadyRhiyana
Summary: 777 years apart, Brienne and Jaime light a candle to the Maiden at the same moment in the Sept of Baelor.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Time travel and other twists [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1305521
Comments: 28
Kudos: 141





	The Maiden

1\. 

When Brienne was nine years old, her father took her to the Sept of Baelor in King’s Landing. She marvelled at the towering statues of the gods, carved with almost lifelike skill; she stood in the light cast by the stained-glass windows and laughed as her skin was dappled blue and green and red. 

“Do you want to pray?” her father asked. 

For Galladon. For Mama, and her little baby sisters. 

_No_ , she almost said, reflexively. She had prayed before, and there had been no comfort in it. But here in this place, beneath the great soaring dome and the jewelled light, she thought she might finally find an answer. 

She lit a candle and knelt before the statue of the Maiden. 

She was nine years old, tall and gangly, her face freckled and her features mismatched and ugly. But her blue eyes were pure and beautiful and filled with hope.

** 

Exactly 777 years in the past, in the year 283, Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard stood beneath the great soaring dome, looking up at the towering statues of the gods; he held his hand out to the light cast by the stained-glass windows, so that his skin was dappled blue and green and red. 

He had long since given up on prayer. It had not saved his mother. It would not save any of the Mad King’s victims. There would be no divine intervention; if Aerys fell, it would be at the hands – and swords – of Men.

Still.

He lit a candle. After some hesitation, he knelt before the statue of the Maiden. 

His white cloak pooled about him. With his youthful beauty and his tumbling golden curls, he looked like the Warrior himself. But his eyes were haunted and filled with shadows and doubt. 

_Maiden,_ he thought, looking up at the serene, beautiful face, the inlaid sapphire eyes. _Is there any innocence left in this world to protect?_

As he prayed, he felt the most extraordinary sense of laughter and innocent joy welling up within him, as if the gods had answered. 

** 

The light of Brienne’s candle grew golden and diffuse, filling her entire vision with a warm glow. She felt – a presence, like a whisper in her ear half-heard. 

It was almost as if someone was speaking to her from across a vast distance. 

“Who’s there?” she whispered, turning to see a hazy apparition of a white knight, pure and beautiful, staring at her with – _reverence._

When she blinked, the knight was gone. 

** 

For a moment, it was as if he had almost seen the Maiden come to life before him. 

She’d had the purest blue eyes in all the world. 

** 

2\. 

Time passed. 

Brienne grew up, grew older and more cynical, and stopped believing in the gods and imaginary white knights. Save for that one hushed moment in the Sept, she had never caught a glimpse of him again.

Still, every now and then, Brienne felt the same presence, heard the same half-audible whispering. 

And then one day, in a costume shop, she saw him. He was wearing jeans and an ironic t-shirt, and examining a white polyester Kingsguard costume. 

“Do you think it suits me?” he asked, swirling the creased white cloak about his shoulders and peering at himself in the mirror. 

For a moment, it seemed as though her vision blurred, as if she was suddenly seeing double. 

And then she focused, and she saw that the man before her was no more than that: twenty-something, careless, with black-rimmed glasses, three days worth of stubble and a man-bag. He was wearing fingerless gloves, his long, elegant fingers smudged with charcoal and paint. 

“No,” she said, smiling. “Not at all.” 

He sighed and returned the cloak to the hanger. “I thought not. Too many vows and restrictions for me.” He looked at her, then. “You, though – I can see you all in white, kneeling in a pool of light. In fact,” he paused, “would you mind if I drew you?” 

She blinked. 

“I’m an artist, you see,” he said, with a lop-sided smile. “Not a starving one, but – I’m illustrating a fantasy story about mediaeval knights and chivalry, and I’m looking for inspiration for the heroine.” 

She went back with him to his studio with the Kingsguard costume, and he sketched her wearing the sword and breastplate and white cloak. 

They talked, and found they had a mutual interest in history, though hers had led her towards academia, and his had led to his current state of disownment from his family. 

She told him about the strange vision she had experienced in the Sept of Baelor, and how she still sometimes heard whispering in her ear. 

“Wow,” he said, and then – “Hang on.” He flipped over to another sheet in his sketch-pad, charcoal flying across the page. “Did you say –”

“Jaime,” she laughed, “are you seriously trying to draw my imaginary vision?” 

He stopped guiltily. “Sorry. Sometimes when an image captures my imagination, I have to get it down right then and there. I can stop if you like.” 

“No.” She smiled fondly at him. “No, it’s all right. Go on.” 

He grinned at her, and went back to his sketching. 

** 

And that was how Brienne met Jaime Lannister.

** 

3\. 

[Time passed. 

Ser Jaime Lannister broke his vows and killed his king, grew older and more cynical, and stopped believing in the gods and innocent maidens. Save for that one hushed moment in the Sept, he had never caught a glimpse of the blue-eyed apparition again.

Still, every now and then, he would light a candle and whisper a prayer to the Maiden. Just in case. 

And then he met the Maid of Tarth in the dungeons of Riverrun. 

“Are you really a woman?” he asked.]

**Author's Note:**

> I have to acknowledge the book "Dark Ages" by John Pritchard for the concept of two people, centuries apart, somehow becoming aware of each other's presence. In that story, a Saxon warrior feels a moment of joy and innocence on a brutal battlefield, and forever after prays to that unknown maiden. (Needless to say, it doesn't end in a meet-cute.) It's one of my all-time favourites. If you're looking for horror/mediaeval/dark fantasy spilling over into a modern setting, I highly recommend it.


End file.
